Page 36 of Infinite
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I open the door to the apartment, waiting to see her sitting in that damn chair, but she’s not.
I could call out for her, but I worry she might be napping. I move around the apartment, looking for her.
Slowly, I open the bedroom door, she’s not there and the bathroom is empty.
I head back to the kitchen to see if she left a note, but there’s nothing.
Wondering if maybe she actually went out, I grab my phone and shoot off a text.
Me: Where did you go?
A second later, the buzzing alert of a text rings from the coffee table.
She wouldn’t go out without her phone, would she?
Panic starts to grip me. What if she left? What if she cracked and ran somewhere? What if Aaron came back and tookherthis time?
“Ashton!” I yell, praying she’ll answer me.
I rush down the hall again, throwing open the doors to see if she’s packing and I missed her.
Then I head to the other hall, my heart pounding as fear like I’ve never known fills me.
The door on the right is open, and I glance in.
That’s when I see her.
She’s sitting in the middle of the floor, her legs crossed, looking at the bassinet I assembled a few weeks ago. It was a gift from her mother and father. A family heirloom that all of her cousins, nieces and nephews, and she slept in as infants. Her mother had tears in her eyes as they brought it in. Then she put the lace cover over it and it went from being wicker to soft and inviting.
“My father reinforced the base,” Ashton’s detached voice says.
“Yeah?”
She nods, her red hair piled on the top of her head, back hunched over as she clutches something in her hands. “He wanted to make sure that it was safe for our baby.”
The break in her voice tears me apart. I stand here, watching her, hearing the pain of loss so thick in the room that it hurts to breathe. “I’m sure it would’ve been strong enough.”
“Unlike me.”
“Don’t say that.” I sink to my knees beside her. “You’re stronger than you know.”
Her tear-stained face turns to me. For the first time, she’s not wearing a façade. All of what she feels is there. The pain that radiates from her would incinerate anyone, but I fight against it because I would burn next to her if she needed me to.
I promised her I’d shoulder it, and I’ll be damned if I let her down.
“We should pack it. You know, bring it back to my parents because . . . we don’t need it and maybe someone else will.”
“We can do that if you want.”
Ashton sniffs and then looks down at her hands. “I bought this last week,” she explains as she grips the tiny item. “I thought it was cute and now . . . I want . . .”
“What is it?” I ask, keeping my voice even. She’s talking, and I will do anything to keep it going. The sound of her voice is like music to my ears that have felt deaf since she shut down. I want to hear it and put it on repeat so I don’t forget the sound.
She lifts the little piece of fabric, and I nearly lose it. There is a baby shirt that has a skeleton frog holding a trident, the same skeleton tattoo on my back that symbolizes a SEAL. Under the picture, it says: “My daddy can kick your daddy’s ass.”
“I thought . . .” Ashton’s voice cracks. “I thought it would be a fun first photo.”
